Response: Blue bird

I know why the caged bird sings
Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange sun's rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

I also really like this poem, having only read it once (twicethrice) on Winnie's blog.
I guess it's true what they say:
though the typical response to "poetry" is, "bleurgh" or "do we have to" or "i won't understand it",

Everyone likes poetry.

It's true, it's true, it's true.

Dolls House allusions aside, here's my response, which is not actually an unfamiliar close reading because
1) I googled the author,
2) (Amongst other things) Weezor's already covered contrast, which is basically THE biggest language technique in this poem. Anyhow

First thing that struck me about stanza 1 is that there is not just imagery of the sky. Consider the phrases, "floats downstream", "dips his wing". It's more evocative of the sea/water, as if the bird has the sea as well as the sky.
Plus he has the land... he has memories of 'trees' and access to 'lawn'; that's all three points of the land of the living, pretty snazzy. And the caged bird? Nothing. He can barely see.

So why does he sing?

The author/poet, Maya Angelou (1928-), wrote a series of autobiographies, the first of which (and the most highly acclaimed of which) is ... three guesses "I know why the caged bird sings."
And she uses this idea of a caged bird throughout. But not a passive bird, a struggling bird, one who wants its voice to be heard. Hence the singing. The entire poem, in fact, is an extended metaphor
with the singing representing the fight against the racism and the oppression which the author had to cope with as she grew up.
The contrast? Her society was black and white in more ways than one. There was very little 'social ambiguity' - not just between the blacks and the whites, but between the men and the women. (I guess this also relates to Grace Nichols celebrating that which is most disparaged in her fat black women poems, ne?)
Although,
I think here the focus is only on the racial difference, since both the birds are 'he', and since we get those contrasting images of light/dark.

Another thing:
Angelou was inspired by Paul Laurence Dunbar, esp. this third stanza of Sympathy:

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--
I know why the caged bird sings!

Aaaand
This is a poem written by Tui Boyle, who was 11 at the time
(This was my favourite poem in the whole 100 poems collection. What is it about birds in cages? Even the pioneer girls made paper illusions to do with them.)

Like a bird in a cage
Got nowhere to fly,
Nothing to do
Just sit there and cry.

Like a prisoner in his cell
Just sits there and waits,
Hoping that someone
Will open the gates.

Nothing to do
Not a thing.
Feeling quite sad
And got no song to sing.

Looking outside
It's a bright sunny day.
The door has been open
So I can fly away.

which seems to also relate to oppressed humans in the wider world, especially with that first person "I" and the use of the simile "like a bird in a cage" at the start, both of which clearly show that we're not actually talking about a bird here.
Most probably a person
not defiant like the original caged birds
an opportunist, this one.
Funny how it can still be analyzed a bit. Like that "nothing to do/not a thing." Read it and you get that expectant 'I thought there was another syllable coming' uncomfortable pause.
Silencenothing.

"Then both were silent once more."